


Round, and Round the Mulberry Bush

by vilepie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 21:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilepie/pseuds/vilepie
Summary: Tolys became accustomed to the scars on his body, but even on the days when his companions found him sobbing in the bathroom, he couldn’t come to terms with damage inflicted on his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to.
Relationships: Estonia & Latvia & Lithuania (Hetalia), Estonia/Lithuania (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Round, and Round the Mulberry Bush

**Author's Note:**

> please, please , please heed the tags, and warnings! these topics may not bother me, but if you have to second guess scrolling down, it may not be for you. if you are a big fan of ivan/russia, you may also want to sit this one out. you are more important. don't forget to take care of yourself. <3

Tolys had learned to rise, and fall according to Ivan’s mood. It was a cycle far more unpredictable than that of predator, and prey. The only resemblance lay in the way Ivan was capable of strangling him from meters away, malice snaking out to suffocate his target. Everyone that held too much charm ended up limp in his grip, yet Tolys seemed to be the only one worth the venom. 

The words always got to him, coursing through his veins, and forcing him to his knees where he lay, but never dared to close his eyes. Ivan knew when he was tired, and, in his few moments of clarity, Tolys couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the game from the beginning. Wherever Ivan wanted him, he got there, and the domain he spent his most time in was that of being drunk on sleep deprivation.

Once Ivan grasped an understanding of the effects of keeping basic needs out of Tolys’ reach, he himself fell under the influence. He resembled a child, with big innocent eyes, and a twisted understanding of the world. No matter how many experiments he did, Ivan couldn’t help but test them again. Tolys grew accustomed to his concoctions, and, rather than use his lab rat for dinner, he retreated to the planning phase. 

There was rarely a day when Ivan left him alone, be it his intent sneaking under Tolys’ bedroom door every night to frighten his allies, and force his eyes open, or the days when Tolys was given a sip of Ivan’s finest wine. He knew for a fact his tormentor’s blood was composed of a decent percentage of vodka, but Tolys couldn’t handle alcohol. One glass, and a handful of words distorted reality. There was no memorizing the winding paths of the forest, for each fantasy never extended past a week. Seven days prior to the start of January, Tolys could be in the no longer caring hands of Feliks, and by the turn of the year, he’d be left in Ivan’s loving arms. 

Tolys was a mouse in a maze, racing towards the end of the tunnel only for a false reality to be crammed down his throat the moment he thought he was right. When he was wrong, though, the consequences were equally as painful. Tolys became accustomed to the scars on his body, but even on the days when his companions found him sobbing in the bathroom, he couldn’t come to terms with damage inflicted on his mind. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to.

Whether, or not he was permitted to accept it never crossed his mind months after the fact. Ivan grew bored, and gave up, but Tolys couldn’t. He was addicted to the confusion, and chaos. He never drank anything Ivan didn’t hand feed him, and he hadn’t gone past his limit in centuries. It was the first, and last time. 

Tolys snagged a bottle of whatever he thought could make even Ivan go ballistic, and carted it up to the room he shared. It was the one time he wished he could sleep alone. Ivan was already too far gone to bother Eduard, or Raivas, no matter what the latter could possibly do. Ivan was so far gone, and that’s where Tolys wanted to follow.

He rammed his shoulder into the door of the bathroom adjacent to their room, flinching when the echoes of the wooden beast slamming against the wall reached his ears. Tolys scrambled to turn, and lock the door; Ivan had locked the door to his office, Eduard, and Raivas the only ones who could possibly hear.

The sound didn’t want to fade, his ears ringing, leaving Tolys stunned as he stared, bottle cradled in his arms, out into the bathroom that was far from fit for three. A shower took up the entirety of the wall opposite the door, accompanied by a toilet, and then a double sink that rested against the area to Tolys’ right not occupied by what felt like a portal to a different dimension. The door was locked, and he was alone.

Tolys inched forward, legs shaking as he shuffled along the wall. He was careful not to look in the mirror. It was only a reminder of his still altered reality, and he knew how he looked. The same uniform, undoubtedly out of place, and bloodied, mimicking the state of his lips that, finally, weren’t bleeding only due to being chapped. 

Tolys’ destination was reached in a matter of seconds that could’ve been years. for he didn’t know much anymore. The only thought that occurred when he slid down the wall next to the edge of the shower was that Ivan had his fun, and Tolys was about to have his, violence, or not. 

He let his legs creep towards the toilet, his ankles encasing the base, and his thighs encasing the largest glass bottle he set his eyes upon. Maybe Ivan would be too hungover to notice the pantry’s missing asset, and maybe Tolys would be too drunk to care what befell his already battered body. His fingers were cut as well, but that provided no obstacle when it came to tightening his palm around the lid, and twisting it open. Where the metal top fell, Tolys didn’t know. If all went according to plan, he wouldn’t be needing it.

Tolys let his head fall back against the blindingly white wall, the shift further tangling his brunette tresses. He was shaking, vodka threatening to flow over the long necked bottle that was nearing his lips. One sip, one gulp, and hopefully he could go limp enough to find ease in drinking it.

His own studies, however, proved him wrong, the only change in feeling being the pricks of pain spreading around his lips as the alcohol seeped into his wounds. Tolys made no move to change that, allowing the feeling to fester before it disappeared for good, or for tonight, at least. His calloused hand had slid down to where the bottle widened, and he repositioned it before yanking his escape back towards his face. Even if reality failed to conform to his needs, vodka would do him much less good on the tiled floor.

With a chuckle, and a swig, Tolys entertained the thought that vodka wouldn’t do him any good at all. There was nothing he longed to do about it, though, instead opting to rely on the lingering thought that Raivas would draw attention to his absence sooner, or later, and Eduard would follow with whatever tool he decided best fit to pick a lock.

It would happen, he knew it, and it was only a matter of time. Tolys knew he had to be swift if his intentions were to be fulfilled, yet he maintained a leisurely pace, waiting every few minutes to reinstitute the burning that trailed down his throat. 

He hadn’t been counting, and Tolys didn’t look when the knock finally broke through the fantasy he was constructing. He didn’t want to move, his energy being preserved for the last sip he would be permitted when the doorknob began to rattle. 

The bottle was lighter, and so was he, and that seemed to be the only thing he could find that mattered. The shoes tapping against the floor, the pain, the scolding, it all meant nothing to him, but his trash seemed to be Eduard’s treasure, the blonde dropping to his knees in front of Tolys. There were more words he didn’t want to comprehend, and some he was forced to. There was a hand on his face. There were tears. Everything he experienced in one moment was all he seemed to have. Tolys knew he wasn’t supposed to have anything more, not even the bottle that had left a hole filled with frigid air between his thighs.

“What happened, Tolys?” Eduard cooed, the emotion they all worked so hard to mask forced into his tone. The lack of privacy to conceal the feeling was one difference that caught Tolys’ attention.

“Can’t say,” Tolys whimpered. In spite of the vodka, Eduard’s tone, the new scars, that was the one thing that remained the same. He had to protect them.

Everything he had was ripped away save for the tears, silence consuming the bathroom just as it ate away at Tolys’ mind. Soon enough, the hand caressing his cheek was replaced with smoother skin, and his hair was met with a hand instead of the wall he had been dependent upon. Tolys had no choice, and, even if he had, he would’ve pressed his face, wet with tears, into Eduard’s now exposed neck. They both needed this as much as Tolys had determined he needed the relief, the stiffness of such an awkward position melting, while Eduard’s grip on his head, and right shoulder was frozen solid. 

It wasn’t the pain he was used to, but a dull sensation overcame his mangled headspace. Eduard’s lips reached out to meet his neck, moving every few seconds to cover every inch of the exposed skin. He was practically kissing guilt into him, the much sweeter toxin diffusing throughout his body.

“Sorry,” 

Tolys broke, fragmented whines being forced from his throat while he hiccupped, attempting to catch his breath. Months later, and it only proved to be another one of those nights.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't have much to say. this is sad garbage, and i hope it can comfort someone else other than myself. side note- do you guys have any idea how good mulberries are? i don't think i've eaten anything as good. except maybe persimmon.


End file.
